


Thunderbirds Are Go - “Retail Rituals”

by countessofsnark



Series: TAG Drabbles [5]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Double Drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-14 00:10:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15376437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/countessofsnark/pseuds/countessofsnark
Summary: I’ve always wondered just what the Tracy boys do when they venture out into mainland territory - because ordering clothes or body products via the Internet isn’t gonna replace the routine of physically visiting a store. Also, I’m planning on writing Christmas themed drabbles next. They’re gonna be painfully cute and there’s nothing you can do about that. *evil cackle*





	Thunderbirds Are Go - “Retail Rituals”

**Scott**

If you were to ask Scott why he preferred to dress in denim from head to toe, he’d shrug and mumble something about harmony and comfort. But the truth was that Scott had no sense of fashion whatsoever. Blue was a safe colour. Blue, like his Thunderbird. Blue, like his eyes, and his mother’s eyes. 

He often caught himself thinking of her – when he needed to distract himself from the memory of his father, which was quite ironic, he realized – and the first thing that would come to his mind were those pools of arctic blue. And then he remembered that she also loved to wear denim: jeans, shirts, skirts, and dungarees, especially during her pregnancies. She probably wore one during her first pregnancy, so maybe he had inherited her fondness for this fabric straight from the womb. 

Scott sighed as he stood inside the tiny changing room, staring at a pair of navy blue jeans. They fit like a glove, but then again he kind of expected that. What with that slender waist and lanky legs of his, all he had to worry about was finding the right length. 

e gathered the day’s loot and headed for the checkout.

 

**Virgil**

Due to his vast collection of lumberjack aesthetics, most of his siblings didn’t bother asking to join him when he went clothes shopping. They presumed it would be a boring, repetitive affair. Virgil didn’t mind one bit, because it allowed him to focus on the most important part of his wardrobe: underwear. He didn’t particularly favour one kind over the other, so his dressing contained an equal number of briefs and boxers. Comfort and design were the two conditions that influenced his decision to purchase or move on.

Virgil’s eyes were drawn towards a pair of plaid flannel boxers. Not only did they look almost identical to the shirt he usually wore, they also felt incredibly soft. As he stood stroking the fabric, he was reminded of a typical Gordon Tracy saying.

_Crown jewels deserve a royal treatment, so pick your undies wisely._

Virgil smirked and nodded. If it felt right, he’d go for it. And not just fabric-wise. Geeky prints were one of his guilty pleasures. Besides, he didn’t have to face his siblings’ opions because said guilty pleasures were hidden beneath layers of clothing. It was the yin to Gordon’s loud-shirt-hiding-a-quiet-inner-self yang.

 

**Alan**

The noodle child of the Tracy family had always been overly fond of baggy clothes, and above all, t-shirts. Alan’s nightwear was more often than not indistinguishable from his daytime wear, either because he didn’t bother changing as he stumbled into bed on the wrong side of midnight after a strenuous multiplayer gaming session, or because he preferred to combine t-shirts and PJ bottoms, disregarding whatever was meant to match said PJ bottoms. 

Whenever Grandma announced another shopping trip to London, he’d be practically bouncing with excitement because it meant adding new stuff to his tee collection. Grandma was convinced of the fact that Alan simply wouldn’t stop until his closet literally burst open with all kinds of t-shirts, ranging from geeky Batman and Doctor Who stuff to hipster prints and motivational quotes.

Grandma was patiently waiting by the checkout area of the Forbidden Planet, the second stop on their t-shirt hunt. (The first one would always be Camden’s Stables Market.) When she spotted her youngest grandson waddling towards her with a heap of multi-coloured, multi-fandom t-shirts in his spindly arms, she sighed and tried to keep a straight and stern face. It was going to be a long day.

 

**Gordon**

The three most important items on Gordon’s mainland shopping list were Hawaiian shirts, equally loud swimming trunks and shorts, and sea-themed body products. Right now, he was tapping into the latter need. When he was trudging up and down the spending haven that is London’s Oxford Street, he passed a cosmetics store and was drawn inside by the promise of scrubs and brightly coloured bath and shower products – the very same products that were part of Gordon’s corner of the Tracy Island bathroom. 

His eyes twinkled with anticipation when one of the employees guided him towards a large bowl of water and proceeded to pour a sandy, heavily fragranced mixture into the palm of his hand.

While he was inching his way through the checkout queue, carrying what looked like an old-fashioned cardboard soap box under his left arm, he couldn’t stop smelling his hands. It was like scrubbing your skin with vanilla-scented sand. Gordon was already daydreaming about his next shower session when a familiar voice trickled into his ears. He’d never forgive himself for continuing to grin like an idiot into Lady Penelope’s ever radiant face as his imagination added her to the shower scene in his head.

 

**John**

A packed westbound Piccadilly Line train rumbled into the station, spewing out a steady flow of passengers that was soon matched by the number of people trying to join the masses inside the cramped carriages. Kayo grabbed John’s sleeve and urged him to get a move on. 

She knew that he loathed shopping excursions, especially of the clothing kind, but she also happened to be the only person on Tracy Island whose shopping routine somewhat matched his own. John’s usual tactics consisted of blanky staring into space upon entering a random clothes store before striding towards a rack of clothes, sifting through them until he found his size, trying them on in record time, and immediately proceeding to the checkout. Efficiency, thy name is John Tracy.

Kayo admired that kind of no-nonsense approach to the human hassle of clothing one’s poorly isolated body and his absolute disregard for the institution of fashion. He hadn’t a clue what was hot and hip nor could he care less. 

Everyone in his family knew that he loved his space suits way more than he did any other outfit he’d ever worn. If he could mail order them from Thunderbird 5, he probably would.

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve always wondered just what the Tracy boys do when they venture out into mainland territory - because ordering clothes or body products via the Internet isn’t gonna replace the routine of physically visiting a store. Also, I’m planning on writing Christmas themed drabbles next. They’re gonna be painfully cute and there’s nothing you can do about that. *evil cackle*


End file.
